


Button Up

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Affection, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Present Tense, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Race's vest is held hostage (not that he terribly minds)





	Button Up

“Hey, gimme your vest.”

Race glances up from the cigar in his hand, his eyebrows scrunching as he looks at Spot. 

“What?”

“Your vest. I want to see it,” Spot holds a hand out. 

For a moment, nothing is passed between them besides the sounds of lapping water and Race shifts on the crate he’s sitting on. Shaking his head, he unfastens the buttons, reluctantly handing it over to Spot once he’s removed it. 

“Don’t see why I need to take it off,” he frowns as Spot holds it up.

“ ‘Cause,” Spot shrugs before putting it on. 

Race blinks at Spot buttoning up the vest carefully before Spot goes back to staring out at the harbor and a small boat horn interrupts the building confusion.

Despite the fit, Spot looks good in the vest. His chest puffs out and Race admires the shape the fabric takes on Spot’s body. He can feel the heat creep up to his face, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away. 

“You gonna give it back?” Race can’t help poke and Spot turns to him with a grin. 

“Nope.”

A small laugh leaves Race and he shakes his head. “Why not?”

“You got more than one. I’m not dumb,” Spot responds, taking ardent interest in a splintered piece of wood. “Thought you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

It isn’t that, but Race won’t fight about it. He’ll probably get the vest back some day, maybe even snatch it up the next day if Spot lets him stay the night. 

Then again, Race notices how Spot traces his fingers along the material, how a smile lingers on his face. Maybe being out one vest won’t be so bad. 

With the sun beginning to set, Spot motions for Race to follow him off the docks, back to the lodging house. Their arrival brings with it questions on Spot’s new attire and to Race’s surprise, Spot doesn’t hide the truth. Not really. 

“A gift from Racer,” Spot grins, patting Race’s cheek when he goes red again. 

The Brooklyn newsies laugh, but none pester any more as Spot leads them up and up. In Spot’s private room, Race takes advantage of the switch, grabbing onto the vest and tugging Spot in close. 

“Hm, I see why you like wearing these,” Spot teases, voice low and Race grins back. 

“You don’t know the half of it.”

If anything else is said between them, it’s caught between tangled embraces and stuttered breaths. They never go far from the safety the room offers, just enough to know that it’s only them.

With stars shining brightly, the night holds them dear, allowing the two to simply just be.

~

Race doesn’t mean to forget his vest. 

At the very least, he pretends to remember it. For once, he wakes before Spot and he feels the call of Manhattan. Pulling on his outer layers as quietly as he can, Race takes a moment to watch Spot before turns for his vest.

Draped neatly on Spot’s chair, Race’s hand hovers above it and he takes a breath. It’s not much of a hope, but it’s enough as Race steps away, glancing again at Spot.

There is an calmness to the way Spot sleeps, his guard down for a few precious hours. Race goes to wake him, then thinking better of it as he turns towards the door. 

Mouthing his goodbye for the day, Race heads out of the lodging house and back towards the familiar bridge. When he catches up with his friends to collect his papers, a few shoot odd glances at him, but no one says a word. 

That is, until Crutchie pipes up. 

“Where’s your vest, Race?”

Race eyes Crutchie, who gives him a knowing smile, and Race tries to shrug it off. 

“Maybe I don’t want it today. Summer’s hot, y’know?”

“Of course,” Crutchie nods and Race has half a mind to talk to him later. 

Some newsies laugh, Race merely rolling his eyes as he gets ready for the day of selling ahead. Despite his constant hawking, all Race can think about is what Spot has done with the vest. 

He’s sure Spot won’t throw it away, but it was one of Race’s favorites and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to it. The image of Spot in the vest repeats in Race’s mind, his blush coming back in waves as he sells in the streets of Manhattan. 

By the time he’s finished, he wonders if the trip to Brooklyn will be too much, too obvious. Yet, if going every day hasn’t piqued anyone’s interest, then this time won’t either. 

“Race, your vest is here!” Crutchie’s voice rings loud and clear, leaving Race to wonder when Crutchie had found him. 

Turning to Crutchie’s voice, Race purses his lips as he sees Spot marching down the street, dressed in his usual clothes, save for the new addition of Race’s vest. For some reason, his appearance is brighter today, as if he had cleaned himself up just for this. 

Race fights back his smile, especially with Crutchie grinning at him. 

“Whaddya want, Brooklyn?” Race lifts his chin, making himself as tall as can be. 

Spot joins the game easily, his smirk evident from a mile away. “Got important business with Manhattan.”

“That so?” Race returns the expression and he can see the eagerness in Crutchie’s stare that snaps between the two of them.

“We ain’t gonna kiss if that’s what you’s hoping for,” Spot turns to Crutchie and Crutchie swings his arm.

“Oh, darn.”

Race bursts out in laughter and Crutchie grins, proud and wide. 

“I’ll tell the fellas you’ll be late, Racetrack,” Crutchie enunciates, winking at the two before heading down the street. 

Race and Spot wave before turning their attention back on each other, their eyes locking. 

“I see you still got my vest,” Race jumps in first and Spot tilts his head, a shine in his eye. 

“I see you left it,” Spot responds, taking a step closer to Race. 

While the city bustles around them, the two look around for any stray glances before ducking into the nearest alley. Hiding behind some boxes, Race grabs Spot by the vest again.

“A memento then?” Race breathes, realizing how close he’s pulled Spot in. 

“A promise, if you’ll accept,” Spot whispers and the two meet halfway.

Race’s thumbs run along the fabric as they kiss and he hardly recognizes the feel of the material. On himself, it was ordinary, rough, but on Spot, all the riches of the world have been weaved into this one piece of clothing. 

Spot’s hands brace on the wall, placed on either side of Race, and when their kiss breaks, Race wants nothing more than to stay in the safety of Spot. 

“Should...let you get back,” Spot looks down, but his hands remain firm. 

“Come with,” Race tries, shrinking a little when Spot looks at him, not with harshness, but with small doubt working at the corners of his eyes. “They ain’t gonna hurt you,” Race reassures. 

“Yeah,” Spot sighs, one hand leaving the wall to cup Race’s cheek. “You ready to let them know?”

“Pretty sure they figured it out,” Race smiles a little, adjusting the vest at the shoulders. “Like yours did.”

Spot nods at this truth and the two step out from the alley, a small glance shared as they make their way down the street. 

“You really come all the way from Brooklyn just for this?” 

It’s Spot who blushes this time. “I guess,” he mumbles out and Race can’t help tease some more. 

“Aw, my Spotty.”

“Call me Spotty again and I’ll soak you.”

“Mm, no. You won’t. Spotty.”

Race grins when Spot gives up, almost skipping back to the lodging house as his heart flies. It’s Crutchie who sees them first, his arm waving wildly as he announces their arrival. The Manhattan newsies pour out onto the front steps, most whistling, and Race just leans on Spot, who scowls before shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“All right, all right,” Jack attempts to bring some order to the newsies. “It ain’t nothing we haven’t seen before.”

When others go to protest, Jack pushes them inside until it’s just the four left outside the lodging house. 

“I mean,” Jack shrugs once everyone is out of earshot. “Could’ve fooled me except for the…” He motions to the vest and Race props his arm on Spot’s shoulder as Spot goes red. 

“Suits him, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah!” Crutchie jumps in. “You should let him wear all your vests!”

“I like your thinking,” Race points at Crutchie, his nose scrunching when Spot huffs. 

Jack raises his hands, shaking his head just a little. “You two keep to your business. I’m gonna...go back inside.”

A pointed stare is shot in Crutchie’s direction and with a small, “Oh!” Crutchie follows Jack into the lodging house.

“That went well,” Race turns to Spot, his fingers trailing along Spot’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, sure,” is all Race gets, but it’s enough and with a quick glance around, he kisses Spot’s cheek. 

“Thanks,” Race smiles, taking the lead into the lodging house first. 

Just before they step inside, Spot’s fingers brush against his own and Race immediately takes Spot’s hand as they head to the common room. A card game in one corner, chatting in the other, the room is filled with warmth as everyone settles in. Race takes them to two empty chairs, the entire space observable from where they sit and it’s only the younger newsies that look ready to pounce with some questions. 

Tonight, everything feels right and Race rests his head on Spot’s shoulder, letting his gaze stray. He can see Spot fiddling around with the buttons on his vest and just as Crutchie shuffles in next to them, Race knows the evening has just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> FLUFF 
> 
> anyway
> 
> [Wumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
